


your fingers between my thighs

by deathsweetqueen



Series: Iron Husbands Bingo 2019 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Vibrators TM, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome, Vibrators, Voyeurism, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:29:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsweetqueen/pseuds/deathsweetqueen
Summary: “JARVIS, is it running?” Tony questions.“Yes, sir.”“Good, you can back off now.”“Gladly, sir,” JARVIS says, dryly.Tony leans back onto his pillow, settling himself against the sheets, feet propped up. He gives the lens of the camera a sultry look.“Hey, there, boys. I hope you’re missing me.” He trails his fingers down the part in his shirt. “‘Cause I sure am missing you. So, I thought I’d send you two a little gift.”Written for the "long distance" square for the Iron Husbands Bingo 2019 and the "foreplay" square for the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo 2019.





	your fingers between my thighs

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: explicit sexual content, polyamory, video sex, dirty talk etc.

“JARVIS, is it running?” Tony questions.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, you can back off now.”

“Gladly, sir,” JARVIS says, dryly.

Tony leans back onto his pillow, settling himself against the sheets, feet propped up. He gives the lens of the camera a sultry look.

“Hey, there, boys. I hope you’re missing me.” He trails his fingers down the part in his shirt. “‘Cause I sure am missing you. So, I thought I’d send you two a little gift.”

He sighs when he starts unbuttoning his shirt, revealing miles and miles of brown, smooth skin, and slips it off his shoulder. His nipples are hard already, as he thumbs over them, gasping a little at the sensation.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he gasps, thumbing his belt buckle. “I can’t stop dreaming about you. Every morning, I wake up hard and I come so hard, so quickly, and I’m not… I need _more_ , Sam, Rhodey, I need _more_.”

He unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather out of the loops on his jeans, and unzips the denim, rolling it down his thighs, kicking it off the bed. He isn’t wearing any underwear underneath and he knows, if he tilts his hips just enough, Sam and Rhodey will be able to see everything.

His palms his half-hard cock, which swells immediately, as he gives himself a lazy, upward stroke.

“You know what I dream about?” he murmurs, giving the camera a lidded, heavy stare. “I dream about you two finding me like this, in our bed, touching myself. I dream about you storming in, but I can’t stop myself and I just keep going and going and going, until you guys get that look in your eyes; you know that look? The one that makes you look like you’d eat me up, then and there. I _love_ that look.”

His fingers press at the skin right behind his balls and he grunts, softly, bucking into the touch.

“Do you like that?” he asks, saucily.

He hums, grappling for the small tube of lube lying on his bedside table. He pops the cap, dribbling a little onto his fingers before returning to his cock, which becomes slick and warm quickly under his ministrations. He’s flushed and panting and writhing on the sheets, his cock curving towards his belly, and he lets out a pathetic whine into his pillow, when something hot, like a lick of fire, curls in his stomach.

“I’m so hard.” He makes a little gasping noise. “So wet. I wish you both were here, doing this for me, looking down at me like I’m just some blow up doll for what you want.” He grits his teeth. “I’d want to suck your cock, yours, Sam, first. Suck on your big, hard cock, while you fuck my mouth like I’m just some glory hole in a truck stop bathroom. And you’d come, quickly, ‘cause I’m good at sucking cock, and you’d come all over my face, over my nose and cheeks and mouth until I’m all filthy and wet.”

There’s a flare of arousal and blood’s pounding in his ears, his toes beginning to curl, and he chokes out a whine, releasing his cock, abruptly.

He pants, heavily, and laughs, almost helplessly, at the camera.

“God, got a little overwhelmed there. Almost came too quickly.” He wriggles down the sheets a little, shaking out his toes, which tingle. He flutters his eyelashes at the camera. “Don’t want it to end so quickly. There’s still an Act 2.”

He fishes inside the open drawer of his bedside table, in which a vibrator sits, the colour of crimson red, gold streaking through like circuitry. He waves it in front of the camera.

“Kept a whole set for myself,” he says, proudly. “You guys had so much to say when I made these things; _it’s demeaning us, Tony, it’s pretty awkward, I don’t want to think about the fat guy in his basement getting off to a Black Widow vibrator_. P.S., Natasha loves hers, gives it five stars out of five. So, I’d like to present to you the Iron Man. Ta-da!”

He waves the vibrator around in front of the camera lens.

“I wanted to use the Falcon and War Machine ones, but then, I thought we might want to save those until you two were back stateside. So, Iron Man it is.”

He plants his feet on the bed, bending his knees, and spreads his legs, raising his hips in the air. He drops the vibrator down onto the bed and grapples for the lube squeeze-bottle. He rubs his fingers together until they’re wet and warm and presses them between his legs, until he’s sighing at the stretch.

“It feels good with just my fingers,” he breathes, gasping a little, as he grips the vibrator. “It’s gonna feel so much better with this baby inside me.”

One finger becomes two, then, three, and he’s grinding back against his fingers until he’s making a soft, pleading sound for someone, for Sam, for Rhodey, to be here, in this bed with him, to drag his fingers from his supple body and replace them with their cock, fuck him, use him, until he’s just a pliant, begging body on this bed.

But he’s alone, and all he has is his vibrator for comfort and for taunting when the going gets tough.

The blunt end of the vibrator bears down against his hole. The stretch burns a little, as he thrusts, testing the waters, but it finally slips inside, his hole dragging at the fake cock. He grunts, his eyes snapping open and fluttering shut, as the stretch and burn drags the air out of his lungs.

“Fuck, it is good,” he breathes. “So good. _Shit_.”

With a frantic roll of his hips, he takes the gaudy looking vibrator inside him, right down to the base. The angle is a bit awkward and his arm starts to ache, but he pushes through it, fucking himself onto the cock, his hips reduced to nothing more than dirty little grinds. He gives the camera an obscene look, his pupils black and blown, knowing that Sam and Rhodey will be able to see everything, his body stretched wide around the girth of the toy, his hard cock slick with lube, his skin gleaming with sweat, and how he can’t keep the lust off his face.

He turns his head, burying his face in the sheets, and imagines Sam on top of him, with Rhodey at his head, parting for Sam’s cock like a ripe peach, while Rhodey fucks his face, firm hand in Tony’s hair and tugging, and _oh, shit_ , that’s enough, that’s so enough, and Tony’s coming, embarrassingly fast, and streaks of come spill over his belly and his legs are spasming in mid-air.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he keens, curling in on himself, the blood pounding in his ears.

When his legs land on the bed, there’s a pleasant stretch to his thighs, and goosebumps that rise to the chill in the air, to his orgasm, which rattles through him in a hot, lovely rush of pleasure that leaves him limp and trembling. He rubs his hands over his thighs and sighs, leaning back against the pillow. He gives the camera a beautiful, lazy smile.

“I hope you enjoyed that slick little marketing scheme for mine. Rest assured, you’re the only ones who’ll get to see this infomercial of mine.” He blows his lovers a kiss. “See you on the flipside, boys.”

* * *

The next morning, Tony stumbles out of his shower in a towel to a blinking red light on his transparent glass window.

“JARVIS?” he calls out.

“It is a message from Colonel Rhodes, sir,” JARVIS promptly answers, as if he can read Tony’s mind (which, after some thought, Tony realises he probably can).

Tony’s eyes widen. “Rhodey! Well, play it; what are you waiting for?”

The screen flickers to life, and Rhodey stands there, with his broad arms folded across his chest, and wow, Tony had forgotten how fucking amazing he looks in those khakis.

His smile grows teeth.

“Hi, babe.”

Rhodey gives him a stern look. “That was _not_ okay.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, that was awesome.”

Rhodey drags his hand over his face, his skin flushing hot. “You can’t just send those sorts of videos to us; what if… what if someone had seen or heard?”

Tony shrugs, defiant as always. “I don’t care about that. All I care about is whether you and Sam liked it,” he says, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Rhodey sighs, giving a sad little shake of his head. “Tony.”

“Rhodey,” Tony returns in quite the same tone. He lowers his eyelashes. “Did you like it or not?”

Rhodey’s eyes dilate, and Tony thinks he’s imagining what it would be like to be in this bedroom with him, with Sam, to strip Tony of that towel and bear him down on the bed and fist his hard cock, while Sam kisses him until he can’t breathe anymore.

It’s a fantasy that Tony likes.

“You know I did,” Rhodey rumbles.

Tony grins, slyly. “Well, you know what’s waiting for you when the two of you come home.” He runs his thumb over the dip in his collarbone just to tease.

“Is that Tony?”

Sam looms into view and Tony brightens at the sight of his other lover.

Sam looks like sin, as he always does, and his mouth twists into a wide smile, showing the gap between his front two teeth.

“Hi, baby. That was some present you sent us,” he says, coyly.

Tony laughs. “The Hamburglar here doesn’t seem to like it.”

Sam snorts. “That’s not what he was saying last night.”

Rhodey groans and hides his face in his hands. “You both suck so hard.”

“You like it when we suck hard,” Tony says, pertly, sniffing.

Sam laughs, outright, while Rhodey just remains pink-faced. On the screen, Sam grips Rhodey’s shoulder in a show of half-sincere support and takes a seat beside him, leaning forward.

“So, babe, why don’t you show us those Falcon and War Machine ones you were talking about?”

Tony drops the towel with a flick of his fingers untying the knot at his hip.

“You go too far. I’m not that sort of boy, Sergeant Wilson,” Tony sighs.

“We have video evidence to the fucking contrary,” Rhodey mutters under his breath.

Tony shoots him a baleful look. “Do not disrespect my sex-positive experience, okay.”  


End file.
